Back Together
by WhiteDahlia13
Summary: What should have happened after Lydia was shot in Season 6B. Takes place between Triggers (06x16) and Werewolves of London (06x17). Once again, unapologetically, 100% pure Stydia.


**8:34 AM**

Lydia Martin wakes to the rhythm of a steady beeping sound. Her head feels heavy, her body is numb, and unwelcomed light filters through her eyelids. Slowly, a pair of brilliant green eyes open and adjust their focus on the surrounding space. Lydia recognizes that she is in one of the rooms at Beacon Hills Memorial. It is then that she recalls the reason she is in the hospital – she has been shot. The beeping sound she hears is coming from her heart monitor. Though her vision is hazy and her mind feels unclear (presumably from pain medication), she observes that while her left hand is rather cold, her right hand is comfortably warm. She rolls her head to the right to inspect her hand and a smile immediately touches her lips.

Resting on her forearm is a familiar mess of dark brown hair, closed almond-shaped eyes, light skin, and what she considers to be perfectly shaped lips, which so happened to be parted and curled into a grin on one side.

 _Stiles!_ she thinks with a smile, as a familiar fluttering spreads throughout her stomach. But the elation quickly fades, when she remembers that he is currently living on the opposite side of the country, while he attends George Washington University. Lydia is fully aware that if Stiles had any idea she had been hurt, nothing would have kept him away. However, she knows it isn't possible for him to be beside her right now – especially when she made Scott promise not to tell him what happened. For his own safety, they had all agreed – Stiles needs to stay out of Beacon Hills. Lydia realizes she must be imagining his presence.

She sighs heavily, analyzing that the figment, which appears to be sleeping on her arm, could be the upshot of a variety of factors. The first, and most likely, being how profoundly she has been missing her boyfriend, and the second being a strong dose of pain meds. Even though she knows it is in Stiles's best interest not to be there, Lydia can't fight the disappointment from weighing on her heart. She has not seen him in weeks, and after what she has just been through, she wants nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around her.

 _He seems so real though_. She can even feel his breath on her skin. Since there is no one else around to confirm her theory, Lydia thinks it best to test it herself. She reaches across with her left arm to touch the apparition and is met with surprise when her hand makes contact.

"Stiles?" she whispers, running her fingertips through his hair.

His eyes flash open. "Lydia, thank god! I was so worried!" he says, moving to stand closer.

Lydia is sure she hears her heart monitor stop for a few seconds as reality sets in. After weeks of separation, _he_ is in front of her again – _her Stiles_ – looking a little unkempt, but still remarkably beautiful. There is a noticeable change in his appearance from the last time she saw him. It does not take Lydia long to realize that it is his clothing. The boy in the flannel shirts and red pants whom she fell in love with, is now wearing navy dress slacks, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a striped tie which is loosened at the neck. He suddenly seems incredibly mature to her. It is a lot to take in, and for reasons she can't explain, she tries to hide the overwhelming stream of emotion that is coursing through her.

"I could tell," she teases, trying to lighten the mood. "I think you drooled on my arm."

He glances down at her arm, then smiles bashfully before wiping the corner of his mouth, "Sorry…I was dreaming about you."

His response is so sweet and honest. Lydia feels her heart melt as an image of the boy she grew up with flashes before her. An affectionate smile spreads across her lips, while all of the reasons she fell in love with him rush through her mind. She squeezes his hand knowing that nothing she could say in response would suffice.

"How do you feel?" he asks, reaching out to touch her cheek with his free hand.

"Not too bad. A little out of it I guess…but okay", she says, pointing at her IV. "Has there been any word on the others?"

"They're all okay too," he reassures her, soothingly caressing her face. "Melissa came out of surgery about an hour ago. She lost a lot of blood, but she's going to pull through. Scott is with her now. Mason is down the hall and Agent McCall was transferred to San Francisco Memorial. They're both going to be fine." He shakes his head then lifts her hand, which has remained in his, up to his lips. "Lyds, I was so scared...it's like someone ripped my heart right out of my chest. Are you sure you're alright?"

She nods, looking at him through the mist of tears forming in her eyes. Stiles places a hand on each side of the bed and bends down to gently kiss her forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. He pulls back and there they are – the piercing brown eyes that she has been longing to see are gazing back at her.

The mix of concern and relief on his face directly triggers one of Lydia's memories – the night he saved her life by orchestrating a plan to break her out of Eichen House. It wasn't the only time he had saved her of course, but it was one of the most recent instances. It is further proof of how far Stiles is willing to go for her – the chances he will take, the threats he selflessly confronts in her name – and it frightens her profoundly. Simply being in Beacon Hills puts him at risk. Her cheeks flush as she is irrationally flooded with anger at herself for being the reason he is in danger.

Stiles misinterprets the pained expression on her face and the quickening pace of her heart monitor as the result of her injury. "What is it? I'll ask a nurse to page Doctor Geyer?" He begins to move away but Lydia grabs his arm to stop him.

"Oh, no you don't, Stilinski! Explain yourself," she insists.

He turns back, quite stunned by her harsh tone. He opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out.

"I thought we all agreed, it isn't safe. You aren't supposed to be here. I told Scott not to call you. You both promised me," she clarifies sternly.

"Yeah…and then you were _shot_. Come on, Lydia! You could have been killed! Did you _really_ think he wouldn't call? If it were me…wouldn't you want to know?" he presses. His tone is laced with emotion and the hurt that radiates from his eyes makes Lydia regret her words.

She closes her eyes for a second to collect her thoughts. "Of course, I would," she replies, straining to control her voice. "You're right. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair of me to ask Scott to keep this from you. It's not that I don't want you here. I do… _more than anything_ …but Stiles, I'm scared." She lifts her left hand to her head. "I'm trying _so hard_ to prevent what I saw from happening and…and…nothing I do seems to be making a difference. Please, don't be angry with me," she pleads, taking a deep breath and reaching for his hand.

"Lyds, it's alright. I'm not angry, and I understand that you're worried about me. Okay? I worry about you the same way…but we can't keep doing this. I think we've established that avoiding the problem is not going to solve it," he explains, leaning back towards her. "We'll figure it out together. I promise. Now, can I _please_ kiss you? I've been dying to kiss you for—"

Before he can finish, Lydia takes hold of his tie and pulls Stiles closer, until their lips met. The ecstasy of finally having his lips on hers is even better than she thought it would be. It sends electricity all over her body and breaks through the fog that, up until that point, had been clouding her mind.

"I've been dying for that too," she admits through a breath as they part. "Can we start over?" she implores, still clinging to his tie, "…because Stiles…from the moment I saw you, what I really wanted to say is that I missed you every second we were apart – so much that I thought I was imagining you just now. I wanted to tell you how empty I felt without you next to me, how I literally could not breathe without you here, and that now we're together…I don't ever want to let you go."

Stiles is left speechless. Even though they have officially been a couple for months, he always seems astonished when Lydia expresses her feelings for him so openly. He is chewing on his bottom lip, leading her to conclude that he is caught somewhere between trying to figure out what to say and wanting to kiss her. Before Stiles has the chance to decide which, Lydia notices a familiar figure in the doorway.

"Come on in, Scott," she calls, while attempting to shift into an upright position.

Stiles notices her struggling and quickly assists. He is thoughtfully adjusting the pillow behind her back when Scott places a hand on his shoulder. He turns to face his best friend and they embrace.

The scene makes Lydia beam. She sincerely admires the bond between the two and loves to watch _her boys_ interact. It reminds her of the relationship she had with Allison – one that never had the chance to fully blossom, but which certainly had the potential to become as profound _._ She silently remembers her friend. _I wish you were here, Allison_.

While she is lost in thought, Lydia feels Scott plant a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he tells her.

"Thank you. How's your mom?" The concern in her voice is apparent. Melissa has always been like a mother to the entire pack. Not only is she incredibly understanding and kind, but she is also uncommonly well-suited to coping with the supernatural aspect of their lives. Oftentimes, Lydia confides in Melissa when she finds it too difficult to do so with her own mother.

"She's exhausted, but fortunately – also super stubborn and determined to make a full recovery."

Lydia smiles in relief, taking Scott's hand with her left and Stiles's with her right. Scott looks back at Stiles, draping his arm across his shoulder to complete the circle. Lydia is reminded of Allison for the second time – their missing link. The three are nearly a perfect picture, but without Allison, there will always be an empty space.

"Despite the circumstances, it's good to be mostly together again," Scott comments, sensing that Lydia is thinking of her dearest friend.

"She's still with us," Lydia reminds them.

"Always will be," finishes Stiles.

They stand in silence for a while. Then Scott speaks, "I should get going. I want to check in with Liam and Mason, and you two should have some more time together. We'll talk later…decide what to do next. Okay?"

"Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Scotty," Stiles replies, patting his shoulder.

Scott hesitates briefly before quietly turning and heading towards the doorway. The couple see their friend glance back smiling – and they both know it is because he is happy for them.

Stiles turns back to Lydia, "Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?"

"Stiles…don't. I must look awful."

"I'm serious. I didn't think it was possible, but you are even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"I guess they don't require a mandatory vision test for FBI interns anymore," she quips, rolling her eyes.

"As a matter of fact, they do – and I'll have you know I passed with flying colors. So, that most definitely means I am 100% correct when I say that you are, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman – ever."

He leans in for another kiss and the contact is like a tonic. Lydia has been called beautiful before, but it is different when Stiles says it. With others, the compliment is strictly about her appearance…because they simply don't care to see anything deeper. When Stiles calls her beautiful, he's referring to everything that makes her who she is, and everything she means to him.

She pulls back and places one more kiss on the end of his nose, "So, are you going to get in here with me or what?" she asks.

Without reluctance, Stiles carefully settles on the bed and wraps his arm around her. Lydia props her head on his shoulder, shifting her gaze to his golden-brown eyes. Seemingly aware that Lydia is aching for more contact, he gingerly touches her chin with one hand, running his thumb across her bottom lip before kissing her again – this time, conveying such need and desire that it makes her head spin.

"How about you try to get some rest?" Stiles suggests, when they part.

Unenthusiastically, Lydia agrees. She is tired but finds herself fighting the urge to sleep. Her eyes transfixed on Stiles, she is weary of closing them, worried that he might disappear if she does.

"I'll be here when you wake up. I promise", he reassures her.

Lydia swears that he is able to read her mind. Snuggling closer, she presses her ear to his chest. The room is quiet, save the sound of her heart monitor, which she now realizes is beeping in perfect sync with Stiles's heartbeat. Having read once that when two people were in love, their heartbeats naturally synchronize, she feels the tether that forever links them reinforced and exponentially magnified. Content and comforted, she eventually drifts to sleep, and Stiles is not far behind her.

* * *

 **10:40 AM**

Lydia stirs to the sound of her name. "Miss Martin?"

"Hi Dr. Geyer," she says drowsily while smiling up at Stiles, who is fully awake and still holding her tightly.

"Everything is in good form, dear. You should be out of here in a day or two," he explains as he reviews her medical chart. "Though, in the meantime…I think you might benefit from a bit more space in that bed," he recommends with a wink.

"Actually, I don't think I would," she corrects, moving her delicate hand next to Stiles's and lacing her fingers through his. "I'm feeling better than I have in weeks."

Dr. Geyer can't contain a smile. Looking over at Stiles, he shrugs, "Sometimes, the patient knows best."

Stiles returns the smile, nodding his head towards Lydia, "In this case, I think you'll find, she _always_ knows best."

"Noted. Well, I should get back to my rounds. A nurse will be in later to change your bandages. Try to get some rest."

Alone at last, they drift into comfortable silence; Lydia tracing circles on Stiles's palm and Stiles, playfully twirling the ends of her hair with his index finger and thumb.

He is the first to speak. "You were right you know."

"I usually am…" she jokes, "…but what _specifically_ are you referring to?"

"When we were in D.C., you said…" he reminds her while pointing to his heart, "…you said it would stop hurting when we were back together – and it did."

"I'm glad. It did for me too," she asserts, nuzzling his chin with her nose and planting a kiss along his jaw. "Stiles…"

"Mmmm…" he breathes.

"I love you."

"I love you more," he responds.

"Not possible," she amends.

"Anything is possible – we are proof of that."

Lydia can't deny that he is right. They both listen to the tune of her heart monitor, which is once again beeping noticeably faster.


End file.
